The Wonderworker
by NotMeagain
Summary: Holiday fic, based on a forum prompt. Tradition goes that the Wonderworker brings gifts to the children who ask, and his visit is highly anticipated by the children of Tipa every year. Except by one who knows the truth. And it is better that way.


What can I say? I secretly stalk the forums.

One clarification: I have the idea that Tipa chooses three candidates to be the next caravanner and trains them for some years before the current caravanner term ends, and then the best candidate is chosen to be the new caravanner. I was going to include this in Letters, but still haven't found an appropriate place to mention it, and I wanted to post this before the next chapter, so. You don't have to read Letters to understand anything here, though.

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**The Wonderworker**

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It was getting cold, as cold as Tipa got during that time of the year, at least. It would never snow there like it did in Alfitaria or Shella, but the sea was getting restless; the waves pounded incessantly against the cliff, and the rain fell a little stronger each day.

Three children sat in the central room of the blacksmith's house one winter afternoon, close by the hearth so that their clothes would dry better. They had spent the majority of the day training under the watchful eye of a retired Lilty soldier and under the harsh rain. The kids were unsure of which was worse. They had barely escaped having to train for the remaining of the afternoon when Mateo's mother, a kind and headstrong Litly woman named Shae, had decided that enough was enough and that the children still had several years to get used to that type of thing; for now, they were only 9 years old, and they could catch a cold.

The cranky old soldier had vehemently refused to let them go, until Shae stomped her foot and shouted, "For the Crystal's sake, Louis, it's almost the Wonderworker's day! I'll be dammed if you don't let my boy and his friends celebrate it in good health!"

That sealed the argument, and the woman bade the children into her home quickly. Beaming at each other, they didn't hesitate in obeying, leaving the old Lilty grumbling about blasted traditions.

"Once again, Mateo's mom saves the day!" Thomas, the Clavat boy, proclaimed cheerfully, as Shae brought them steaming cups of tea. The other kids laughed, and she smiled at Thomas, patting him on the head.

"So flattering. Don't be ridiculous," she lightly slapped the back of his head and walked away, but he didn't mind; she didn't mean it, and she loved to be flattered. "Finish your tea, warm yourselves. Once you're dry, may you help me with making some decorations? Especially you, Korina, honey; if I give you some lace and thread could you make a few cute bows?"

"Of course," Korina, the other Clavat, said over her cup.

The funny thing about training was that none of them felt noticeably tired after they finished; much less now, that they had not gone through their whole session. So when they were mostly dry and were in higher spirits because of it, Shae gave them several pine twigs, a basket full of acorns, cord and a small box with needles, string and pieces of fabric to Korina so they could make a crown to hang on the door.

The boys set to intertwining the twigs together and tying the acorns to the forming crown, while Korina had picked a white string and begun making patterns on the red fabric.

"I always make a happy face," Thomas commented as he fumbled with a piece of cord that refused to tie around the stem of an acorn. "With the acorns around the crown, I mean. But mom never likes it."

Mateo chuckled. "What, like this?" he said, arranging the nuts on the floor so they formed a mock-up of how they would look on the pine crown. Thomas nodded.

Korina threw one glance at it and said, "She probably doesn't like because it looks kind of creepy."

"It's a happy face…" Thomas said, his shoulders slumping. "How does a happy face look creepy?"

"The mouth looks like teeth,"

"Anyways," Thomas continued, choosing to ignore Korina's comment. "Mom says that's not how it is supposed to look, and that I'm not going to get a present if I hang a crown like that on the door."

Mateo eyed his friend warily and quickly picked up the acorns from the floor, depositing them on the basket. Over at the kitchen, his mother chuckled.

"So," the Lilty boy said after a while, when Korina had already finished two bows and the crown was almost complete. "What did you guys ask from the Wonderworker this time?"

"A dog," Thomas replied merrily, making his friends laugh. It was the same story every year, according to Thomas and Mateo, and the Clavat had never gotten that ideal present. His mother insisted that the wonderworker didn't bring that kind of things - I mean, what if some kid asks for a pet Malboro? She reasoned, but Thomas persisted in his request. However, he never depreciated the gift he got; Korina suspected he was way too nice to do that, even if he didn't like the gift.

"Dad says that if I ask for it, it's possible the Wonderworker brings me a good pair of bronze gloves." Mateo said, "You know, in case I get chosen to be the next caravanner. And I guess it would be neat, right? Having a good pair of gloves to train with."

Both Clavats agreed, but the conversation fell into a strange silence then. The two boys were expecting Korina to tell them what she asked for, but the girl had her concentration firmly set on the lace she was embroidering. The boys exchanged a glance; they had the feeling that she was purposely avoiding looking up.

"Korina?" Thomas finally asked her, and she had no other option but to look at him.

For a moment she hesitated, until she went back to sewing, and said, "I…I didn't ask for anything."

"What? Why?" Thomas exclaimed.

Mateo stared at her, brow furrowed in disbelief. "But…this is the only chance besides our birthdays when we get to ask for a present! Aren't'cha going to use it?"

Korina recoiled a bit at the boys' reaction, but she recovered quickly and frowned, focusing her attention back to the lace. "My father doesn't, uh, let me ask for anything. He says that the Wonderworker needs to have the parent's approval to deliver the gift, so… " she shrugged. She knew she had to thread lightly with this subject; this boys probably still believed in the Wonderworker, the spirit that passed through the night this time of the year and delivered a present for every child who asked. She knew about the tradition simply because it was a holiday, but her father had never celebrated it, and he'd never bothered to pretend the Wonderworker was real. "It's no big deal, you guys. There's nothing I really need right now."

Her brief explanation did nothing to change the expression of bafflement on Mateo's face, but Thomas' expression was different. If Korina had looked up, she would have noticed. The Clavat boy had lowered his gaze to the floor, frowning deep in thought. While he and Mateo had been friends since long before, they had only befriended Korina after she was chosen as a candidate for caravanner, so they knew relatively little about her. Kids like them were not given to town gossip; if either of the boys had been, they would have known that the local tailor, Korina's father, was a stern man who wasn't really cut out for raising children. Some said that he had only cared about his wife, and when she left him -ran away to who knew where; no one was willing to go look for her out there in the miasma-infested world- he was stuck with the little girl.

So while Thomas couldn't yet understand his friend's situation, it was obvious to him that something was off with her. She didn't _look_ sad; she kept working with needle and thread in the most nonchalant way she could, but it was one of those moments in which he could just tell. The softness in her movements and her gaze were not because she was trying to be delicate.

Not too long after, the rain abided, and the two Clavats saw the opportunity to go home. It was getting late anyways. The chilly night air was starting to creep in on the town as Thomas and Korina made their way to their houses. All around them, the town was decorated in the traditional golden and red colors of the Wonderworker's day; the small festival would be tomorrow afternoon, so the town square was adorned with posts and the stands for food and products had been set. After the communal celebration, every family would go back home, and in the morning the children would wake up to find their presents by their bedroom window.

"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow," Thomas commented to break the silence that had fallen between them. Few people were outside now besides them.

Korina threw a sideways glance at him. "That only bothers the merchants. Remember the time a few kids played tag under the rain?"

Thomas chuckled. "Oh yeah. I was one of them."

Korina rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. They had reached her house, and they bade each other farewell before Thomas continued down the road to the fisherman's house. Except that when he reached the split in the road that lead to his home, he passed it, and kept on going until he had rounded the town and ended right back where he had started: the blacksmith's house. By now the lights inside the house had been lit, casting an orange light on the earth and trees around it.

Thomas climbed the steps and knocked on the door, hoping that it would be Mateo's mother the one who answered. Luckily, she did.

"Thomas, dear, I thought you had gone home!" the woman said, looking up at the boy, who actually towered over her when he wasn't sitting. "Are you here for Mateo?"

Thomas shook his head. "Actually, I'd like it if you didn't tell him, but I want to commission something."

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The next day, Thomas sneaked out of his house during the dead of the night, tightly clutching a small cloth bag in one hand and glancing over his shoulder, afraid that he might have woken up his parents despite his best efforts. But his house remained undisturbed.

It was the Wonderworker's night. The festival had passed as usual, though if he was sincere to himself, he barely enjoyed it anymore. But still, even if deep down he was outgrowing such childish festivities, there was a sense of foreboding in this night. After all, shouldn't the Wonderworker's spirit be roaming the streets right now, delivering presents? It was the spirit's job, not Thomas'— after all the years of being told about it, these kinds of things were better left to the mystical world, weren't they?

The trees rustled constantly with the strong wind that swept the peninsula during the season, and the moon was hidden by the clouds. Maybe this was why the Wonderworker appeared during this season; so that his shadow could be concealed in the complete darkness.

Thomas suddenly heard laughter, and he jumped a bit. He turned to look back and noticed a previously unseen glimmer or light far down the road, and he stood frozen in light and noise must be coming from the merchant's house, Thomas reflected; they were Selkies, they didn't celebrate this holiday, but they seemed to be having a small gathering in front of the house. It was far away, and they were so busy chattering that they would not notice him, so Thomas just shrugged off his initial scare and kept going up the street.

He stopped a moment to glance around once he reached the farm, and the road began to curve to the right, towards the town's square. The house he meant to go to was closer by now; he could see part of it from around the trees, and his resolve steeled. Clutching the small bag better so that there was no way its contents would spill, he began to run.

If the wonderworker loved children so much why did he allow some of them to go without a present? People went and threw a festival in his name, and yet he would ignore those who were not allowed to ask a present of him. It's not like they were supposed to ask for anything big, just something that they would need or that would make them happy. It was said that even benevolent spirits could be capricious, so Thomas guessed that that was what was at work here, in which case he felt less guilty about this plan. He didn't want to let Korina at the mercy of someone else's whims, spirit or father, whoever it was.

The earth felt squishy and humid under his bare feet; he'd left the house barefoot because that way he made less noise on the wood floor, and he kind of liked running without shoes. The cold wind bit as his skin, but he didn't mind.

Finally he reached the tailor's house, which stood right besides the trail that lead up to the top of the cliff. The wind howled in this place, and Thomas slowed his pace, once again glancing around cautiously. He reached a window on the side of the house hesitatingly, pushing aside a large piece of fabric that hung from the low roof to make his way. He climbed onto a narrow tiled platform and tested the window there as quietly as he could. He managed to open it with a little difficulty, and leaned inside to find a suitable place to drop the small bag on; close by there was a table with a flower pot, so he stretched his arm and left the bag there, quickly closing the window and turning to run back to his house.

Satisfied with himself, he ran all the way home, and as always, the way back felt much shorter. Before entering his house, he placed a hand on the door and looked around to the town at night one last time, wondering in which shadow the Wonderworker was hiding. He gave the spirit his widest grin, and went inside.

"Where were you?"

Thomas jumped about a foot in the air, and nearly tripped back out of the house, but he regained his footing in time. His mother, Christie, stood before him, holding a lit match in one hand and a candle in the other, and looking more confused than angry. Briefly, she noticed how her son had instinctively reached for a sword by his side, even though he wasn't carrying one at all. What had they done to her boy?

She lit the candle, and watched as Thomas regained normal breathing, clutching his shirt in front of his heart. She repeated the question, and Thomas stammered, "I…err, was…err,"

"Get inside already," she sighed, beckoning him in, and he closed the door as he eyed her warily, expecting a scolding. Christie just rolled her eyes and placed the candle on the table before hugging her robe closer to herself. "It's deadly cold, and you're out barefoot out there, doing gods know what…"she trailed off, shaking her head at him.

"It's not _that_ cold," Thomas half shrugged. Christie raised an eyebrow, and Thomas avoided her gaze, suddenly curious about the ceiling.

"What were you doing out during the Wonderworker's night? Looking for him?" she asked, a little amused at the possibility.

He looked a little offended by the assumption at first, but his gaze softened. "No, ma, not at all. It was kinda…" he let a long sigh, leaning against the door with his hands behind his back. He spent some minutes with his sight on the floor, frowning deep in thought. His mother watched patiently, curiously. Finally her son made his way to the table and pulled a chair to sit down. He tilted his head to a side, and asked, "He was never real, was he?"

"Who?"

"The Wonderworker," Thomas stated simply. "You and dad got the present, right? Parents get the presents."

Christie observed her son carefully. He didn't look disappointed; in fact, he probably was more eager to have his theory proven right. Christie gave him a half-grin, and then pondered her answer. "He may have been real, a long time ago. I heard once that there was once a living man who earned that nickname -the wonderworker- because he helped children in need; like, he'd cure them from wounds or sickness that not even cure spells could fix, and save some others from falling into poverty. Things like that. Obviously the most famous story is the one about him leaving small presents for kids on their windows. It's just believed that he kept doing it even after death." She gave him a lazy smile that looked just like the one he gave her back.. "The stuff legends are made of.

"So yes, we get you what you ask for, if we can." she concluded, before asking, "What made you think this?"

Thomas shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I just…had figured it, but I didn't know. Is that possible? It just occurred to me, and it felt like it made sense."

"Was it because of whatever you went to do outside?"

The boy nodded, and confessed to his mother what his little escapade had been about. Christie had not imagined it was anything like that, and she couldn't help it when her smile grew wider and wider as she listened to him, so much that he ended up stuttering and turning away in embarrassment.

"Don't," Christie said, almost laughing, trying to reach him as he inched away and frowned at her. "Come on, that was really sweet of you! What was inside the bag?"

Thomas debated about whether telling his mother about it. "Just a hairpin. Maybe you'll see them some time." He shrugged, and decided that now was a good time to his bedroom, if only to avoid having his mother embarrass him more. But he stopped once he'd stood up, and looked at Christie curiously. "Aren't you mad I sneaked out so late?"

Christie chuckled. "I was going to give you a period of grace. If it passed I would have gotten worried. But, you know, it's not as late as you think." she dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand, and stood up to go to the kitchen counter and make herself some tea, as Thomas yawned and went up the stairs.

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The day that followed was a blessedly dry one. The sun even managed to sneak through the clouds during the morning, making the star-shaped hairpin that held most of Korina's hair back glisten in the light. If anyone wanted to notice it, the effect was quite pretty, with the silver of the tin against the golden of her hair. Mateo wasn't someone who would pay attention to those kinds of things, though; he practiced with the spear a few feet away from the Clavat girl while she sat quietly on the steps of the Crystal's pedestal, every once in a while unconsciously touching the pin on the back of her head.

Training wasn't really the best time to wear this kind of things, but she liked it, she really did. It wasn't something she needed, or would have thought about asking for, but it was enough. It really was. She still didn't understand how that little leather bag had gotten into her house- the Wonderworker wasn't real, and her father wouldn't have pestered her so much about it if he had gotten it for her, so then who was it?

"Morning!"

Oh. She should have imagined, she thought; it just had to be. She scooted to a side to let Thomas sit down besides her.

"He got the gloves, didn't he?" Thomas asked, watching the Lilty boy practice.

Korina just nodded. "You're a little late," she commented, throwing a sideways glance at him, but unable to face him fully- she might have been blushing, and she didn't want him to see. It felt as if any little thing she did would let him know that she'd figured it out

"I stayed up a little late," Thomas shrugged.

"Doesn't that defeat the idea?" she said a bit quicker than usual. "Wouldn't the- the wonderworker be delayed if you're still awake at night?"

But Thomas just smiled and shook his head. "Nah. He'll come eventually."

For a moment she turned to look at him. "Yeah," she smiled, and turned away again. "I guess he will."

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Another clarification: even _I _am a little iffy on the age of the characters here, but I had set that as the age they began training, and 8 y/o seemed too young for that. But I figure that, since I wrote the Wonderworker to be a spirit, believing in him wasn't too much of a stretch for them at that age, considering that spirits and the supernatural were (probably) common superstitions at that time.

So, really, what can I say. I was reading the Moogle nest forums and there was talk about holiday themed fics. It sparked my interest so I made a ten minute trip to Wikipedia to read about the original Saint Nicholas and piece from that a myth that could fit in the CC world. Though in the end it wasn't even the real focus of the story, which probably made it more fun to write. I didn't try to write something complicated; mostly, this was just quick practice for worldbuilding and this characters, but opinions are still very appreciated, if you don't mind :)


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